Whoever catches the bouquet
by Faithful Wheezy
Summary: You know how the saying goes. If you catch the bouquet, you marry next. Also, everyone seems to forget to lock their bathroom doors... A Ron and Hermione one shot.


**Whoever catches the bouquet…**

by: Faithful Wheezy

_You know how the saying goes. If you catch the bouquet, you marry next. Also, everyone seems to forget to lock their bathroom doors.  
A Ron and Hermione one shot._

There's a lot of flower symbolism in this story, and if you notice and understand it, it adds a whole new depth to the story—congratulations to you!

Disclaimer: If _Harry Potter_ was mine, Fred wouldn't've died. Unfortunately, he did, and unfortunately, I do not own _Harry Potter_.

Warnings: Post-Deathly Hallows, **spoilers**, and—well, fluff, I suppose. If you haven't read _Deathly Hallows_ yet, then what the bloody hell are you doing on a fanfiction site when you know full well that spoilers will be floating around? Like… cat hair in a menagerie?

-x-

The ten o' clock sun shown down jauntily upon the Burrow that morning. There was to be a joyous and momentous occasion, and everybody was happy and excited, and—

Ron Weasley paced back and forth across the floorboards of his room, his hands shoved deep into his robe pockets—one hand closed around a small, rectangular object. Harry Potter, who was currently standing at Ron's dresser adjusting his tie, observed his best friend with an amused expression on his face.

"I have a feeling that it's not my wedding you're worried about," he said.

At this statement, Ron stopped pacing the floor and gave Harry a guilty look. "Sorry, mate," he said. Pausing, he added, "Oi! What's that supposed to—?"

Harry merely laughed and began to attempt flattening his hair for the third time that hour.

"You know," Ron said after nearly ten minutes of silence (which was broken from time to time by Harry's impatient harrumphs when a stray hank of hair would spring upward once more and the occasional moan made by the attic ghoul), "by the time night falls we really will be brothers."

"Scary thought, isn't it?" Harry mused, peering at his reflection so hard Ron feared his mirror would crack.

Ron snorted and continued to pace his room. Glancing at Ron in the mirror, Harry remarked, "Ron, you're going to wear the floorboards down, fall through, and get my fancy dress robes dusty. I don't think you want that on your conscience."

"Definitely not," Ron said seriously, finally seating himself on his bed. Far from looking calm, however, he crossed his arms so tightly it seemed as though they would weld themselves together before long.

Finally, with a last pat to his hair, Harry gave up and walked over to the window, looking out nervously. From it, he could see about a dozen people milling on the Burrow's lawns, either fixing up a great white marquee in the orchard, adding finishing touches to the landscaping (where Harry could spot Hermione decorating a few more crabapple trees in her usual style) or ordering white-robed waiters about. After a moment, Hermione swiftly pocketed her wand and ran inside the Burrow, evidently to prepare herself, as she was a bridesmaid. When Ron's leg gave a violent twitch, as though a reflex test had been performed on it, Harry knew Ron noticed her coming inside as well.

"So," Ron said gruffly, apparently trying to cover his embarrassment, "today's the big day. Are you excited?"

"Nervous, more like," Harry admitted, his hand flying up to his hair as instinctively as it would have had his scar hurt.

"You're going to be a Weasley," Ron continued.

"Actually," Harry said, "Ginny's going to be a Po—"

"No," Ron said firmly. "You're going to be a Weasley."

Harry paused for a few moments, and then laughed. "I don't know about that—but I'm sure you'd rather someone else be a Weasley."

At first, Ron merely looked his confusion. "What?"

At that moment, Mrs. Weasley's voice drifted through the door from a clear couple floors down. "Hermione! It's all right, dear, I found your bracelet right here!"

Harry looked at Ron meaningfully. When Ron said nothing, Harry said, "Like I said, I didn't think it was _my_ wedding you were worrying about."

Instead of answering, Ron glanced at the sky and began for the loo, saying, "All right, well, I'd better start getting ready. I'll be out in about half an hour—and don't do anything to my shoes! If you make me look bad, you look bad; don't forget that I'm your best man."

"I haven't forgotten!" Harry protested, holding up his hands. When he felt Ron was a safe distance away from the room, he muttered, "His shoes? What the hell…"

-x-

"Ginny, you look beautiful," Hermione said approvingly, as she came inside Ginny's room.

Ginny had been standing at her window, clutching a white silken robe around her as she looked at her gown, which was lying on her bed. Her hair had already been done; it seemed to fall in perfect waves around her head, and though her face held a very anxious look on it, she did look very pretty indeed.

"Hermione!" Ginny looked extremely relieved.

"Hey, Ginny," Hermione said, shutting the door behind her. "How do you feel?"

"Absolutely jittery," Ginny said, wiggling her fingers to emphasize her anxiety. "But other than that, I'm peachy."

Hermione laughed as she went to Ginny's closet to take her own dress out of it, dropping her newly-found bracelet on the dresser on the way. "Don't worry about it. It's going to be great."

"Thanks, Hermione," Ginny said, staring at her dress pensively.

After a moment, Hermione finally dug her dress out from Ginny's closet.

"Well, anyway, I'm really sorry Ginny, but I have to go get ready. I'll be back in a bit, all right?" Ginny nodded as Hermione left the room for the loo.

-x-

Hermione flung a towel over her shoulder and reached for the handle of the bathroom, humming quietly to herself an old Muggle song she recalled from her kindergarten days. Opening it calmly, she was met with the sight of Ron, who was dripping wet; he seemed as though he had just managed to wrap his towel around himself right before Hermione opened the door. After staring at each other dumbly for a few seconds (Hermione trying politely _not_ to look anywhere else), Hermione blushed, muttered a strangely high "Sorry", and backed swiftly out of the bathroom, shutting the door quickly. Breathing rather heavily, Ron turned towards the door hanger, on which his dress robes were hung, and caught his reflection in the mirror.

His ears were bright red.

Knowing that Hermione was outside, he called, "Sorry, Hermione, I'll be out in a minute!" hoping to Merlin that he sounded casual.

"It's fine!" Hermione called back, sounding as equally forcibly calm.

Throwing his robes on quickly, Ron ran a hand through his hair and made a mental note to fix himself up properly in his room and exited. "All yours," he said with a bow, attempting bravado. Looking up at the sound of Hermione's stifled giggle, he saw her pink slightly and made for his room, feeling slightly pleased with himself.

When Ron reached his room, he wrenched the door open and stepped inside with a dramatic "AHA!" as though hoping to see Harry drop his dress shoes on the floor with a guilty start; instead, Harry turned calmly from the window and gave him a strange look, his dress shoes across the room from him.

Looking disappointed, Ron shuffled to his dresser and dropped his old robes in the hamper. Halfway through beginning to comb out his hair, he dropped his wand and pulled his robes out of the hamper again and dug deep into its pockets, evidently searching for something.

"Did you leave your brains behind?" Harry asked dryly, now witnessing Ron dive head-first into the hamper.

"No," Ron muttered, looking extremely worried now, "but I think I might've left something more important behind—bloody _hell_…"

Harry blinked as Ron dropped to all fours, beginning to search his room thoroughly: he checked under his dresser, in each pocket of every article of clothing he possessed, under his bed, in a tank that once held frogspawn, and every other nook and cranny of his room. Finally withdrawing his hands from the depths of his shoes, realizing that whatever he was searching for could not have been in there, Ron ruffled his hair in despair.

"Damn," Harry heard him swear quietly.

"Well," Harry said loudly, interrupting Ron's sulk, "would you like to tell me what you've lost? I could probably help, you know—it can't possibly be _that_ much harder than finding a Horcrux."

Ron snorted but shook his head.

"Thanks, mate, but I—I know where it is… unfortunately," he added under his breath. "Hold on."

Harry snickered knowingly as he watched Ron dash out of the room again.

-x-

Ron's mind was whirling. He could _not_ just leave it behind… why, oh why, was he so idiotic as to leave it in the bathroom? _Anyone_ could have found it. Taken it. What was he thinking?

Ron practically flew down the last flight of stairs ("Ronald! Stop horsing around and get ready!") and stumbled to the bathroom; so great was his desperation that he took no precautions to check if anyone was in the bathroom, and he pulled the door open at once.

Immediately, his sudden arrival received a startled scream. Hermione, who had just wrapped her towel around herself, immediately leapt backward into the bathtub—and for added measure, she wrapped herself in the shower curtain.

"_Ron_! Can't you knock?"

Ron felt his ears grow warm, but fought the urge to jump out of the bathroom. Shielding his eyes, he called out, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! But I forgot something in here and—" catching sight of his forgotten possession lying on the counter, Ron heaved a humongous sigh of relief, snatched it, and ran out of the bathroom calling, "it was important! And—just getting you back from earlier," he added jokingly, shutting the door with a snap as Hermione made an annoyed scoff.

Once he began climbing the stairs for his room, Ron checked over the small box he had rescued from the bathroom. It didn't seem to have been touched or opened… good. That was a good sign. Right before he went back inside his room, he tucked the box into an inside pocket—checking it for holes before putting it in, of course—and took a deep breath.

Today was going to be interesting.

Just as he laid his hand on the knob of his door, Mrs. Weasley's agitated voice floated up the stairs.

"Where's Harry? Oh dear, has Ginny come down yet?" there was a pause as a muffled voice answered her. "No? Oh—I'll go and help her, yes… no, she must be ready before Auntie Muriel comes, we mustn't—" another pause. "Thank you, Fleur, dear, the only things needed to be taken out are the casserole dishes—Ron!"

Ron hurried over to the stairs and looked over the banister to find his mother looking up at him from the first-floor landing, looking distinctly stressed.

"What is it?" he called over the banister.

"Ron, could you please get Harry to come down? I think the guests are about to arrive, and I have to help Ginny… and your hair—"

"—all right, Mum," Ron interrupted.

As soon as Ron had gotten to the word 'right', Mrs. Weasley scurried into Ginny's room. Restraining the urge to roll his eyes, Ron turned around and returned to his room, poking his head inside.

"Harry?" he said. Again, his best friend turned from the window. "My mum needs you to come down because the guests are about to arrive."

Harry immediately looked flustered. "Already? Er—yeah. Are you coming down now?"

Ron indicated his hair and shook his head. "Mum would have a seizure if I didn't fix this."

"Oh." Harry nodded. "Right. Well, I'll see you later, then."

"Good luck with Great Auntie Muriel," Ron snickered. Dodging a pillow Harry cast at him on his way out, he returned to his dresser and continued combing his hair out, grumbling slightly. Finally satisfied that his hair looked decent enough, Ron reached into his inside pockets and pulled out the small box he'd nearly forgotten in the bathroom earlier. The more he looked at it, the more he realized that _today was going to be the day_. He set the box down on the dresser, then appeared to think better of it and picked it up again. Then again, he set it down. And yet again, he picked it up. Then he put it down.

Then he picked it up.

Then he put it down.

Up.

Down.

Up.

Down—

Just as he reached his hand out to pick it up yet once more, there was a gentle knock on the door. Before Ron could say "Who is it?" or, "Come in", George opened the door and came inside.

Though a few years had passed since Fred's death, George still seemed oddly diminished. Granted, he always claimed that he was over his brother's death and still made jokes, but they never seemed to come as easily as they used to.

Startled, Ron half-picked up the box and it slipped through his fingers, dropping to the floor. George followed its decent to the floor, and eventually Ron's as well, for he dove to the floor to retrieve it before George could take a proper look at it. Catching a glimpse of it as Ron stuffed it back into his pockets, an impish grin that George now wore so rarely crossed his face.

"Is that what I think it is, ickle Ronniekins?"

"Is what what you think it is?" Ron asked jerkily.

Casually, George flicked his wand, and before Ron knew it, the small box he had tried to conceal from George soared out from his pockets and into George's hands.

"That's not fair! Silent Summoning Charms aren't—"

"Yeah, yeah," George said, inspecting the box. "Well, tell me, dearest brother mine—what is this?"

Ron frowned. "What d'you think it is?"

George opened the box and looked inside. Closing it quickly as Ron made an angry start forward he said, "Judging by the contents of this box, I think I can safely predict that you are soon going to propose to someone." Pausing, he added, "Probably Hermione—unless I missed something?"

Grinning at his brother's silence, George tossed the box back to Ron and collapsed on the bed with an explosion of squeaky springs. "When are you going to do it?"

Ron made a noncommittal grunt and began tying on his shoes. After a few silent moments he spoke. "I was thinking about doing it today," he admitted. "But I dunno how to… you know. Do it."

George snorted. "Ask her a question that sounds something like 'will you marry me'?"

"You know what I mean!"

George sat up. "Actually, I do," he said, beginning to sound serious.

Ron looked at him with raised eyebrows. "And…?"

"You know that old Muggle saying?" George continued. "Dad used to recite a whole bunch of them at dinner, remember? Before Mum threatened to lock him in the ice box?"

Ron nodded impatiently. "Which saying?"

"'Catch the bride's bouquet, and you marry next'," George recited, clasping his hands. When Ron did nothing but stare at him blankly, George huffed. "After every wedding, the bride is going to throw her bouquet at a crowd of unmarried women. And whoever catches the bouquet is said to—"

"Marry next," Ron said, cottoning on. "But what does this have to do with me? I'm not an unmarried woman."

George lay back on the bed once more, entwining his fingers under his head. "But Hermione is," he said.

George watched his brother calmly as the expression on Ron's face changed from confusion to understanding embarrassment.

"So," Ron said quietly, "you're saying that if Hermione catches the bouquet, I…"

"Yep."

Again, Ron was silent for a few moments, apparently thinking hard.

"Why didn't Fleur throw her bouquet? When she and Bill got married?"

George paused. "She would have, if You-Know-Who didn't go and crash the party," he said bitterly.

Ron knew he was thinking about Fred.

"George—" he began, but a look from his brother quailed him.

"Right, then," Ron continued weakly. "But… what if Hermione doesn't catch the bouquet?" he said, his eyes widening. "She may not marry next—"

"Propose anyway!" George interrupted heartily. "You don't _have_ to catch the bouquet to marry next. That's just some smarmy old Muggle thing—but since Hermione's Muggleborn, she should know about this sort of thing, you know…"

Instead of looking satisfied with this information, Ron turned a suspicious eye onto George. "How d'you know about this stuff, anyway?" he demanded. "You don't really strike me as the type to go around with romantic notions."

George shrugged. "Alicia Spinnet helped me out once," he said evasively. "But anyway," he said, getting up from the bed and heading to the door, "think over that quickly, because—" opening the door, Mrs. Weasley's voice blasted through the entrance:

"_RON! GEORGE! PERCY! CHARLIE! BILL! Downstairs!_"

"—you don't really have that much time." Giving Ron an exaggerated salute, George marched out of the room. "Coming, mum," he called back to Mrs. Weasley in a sing-song voice.

-x-

For the fifth time during the ceremony, Ron uncomfortably adjusted the large white rose his mother hurriedly stuffed in his buttonhole the moment he came down the stairs earlier. It seemed as though the rose did not want to be bothered; every time he would push the flower away, it would bend back to rest on the side of his chin, as though reminding him of something. Not only did it continually graze his chin, it also kept a continual shower of white rosebuds falling and landing on and around his shoes, and each time a rosebud was displaced, a new one would grow in its place. Ron found this very distracting.

"…then I declare you bonded for life," the tufty-haired wizard concluded, waving his wand over the heads of Harry and Ginny, a shower of silver stars falling around them. There was an awed silence; then, Ron began the applause. At first, Ron found it strange, as his clapping appeared to be making an echo. The tent was big, but not infinitely large—or empty, for that matter. Looking around, he saw that Hermione had begun clapping at the same time he had.

Their eyes met for a second, and even though the whole congregation had picked up a loud round of applause, it seemed as though there wasn't any sound.

Finally, Hermione seemed to give herself a little shake and mouthed, _Let's go congratulate them!_

Ron nodded his agreement and joined her as everybody stood up, their seats rising to the air; a golden dance floor began forming from the center of the ground. They managed to push ahead of the throng of well-wishers beginning to converge around Harry and Ginny, who beamed at them.

"Congratulations, mate!" Ron roared over the tumultuous sound. "You better not leave my sister or I'll—" but Hermione dug her elbow into his stomach.

"Yes, congratulations!" she squealed hurriedly, hugging both Harry and Ginny enthusiastically in turn. "Wow, I can't believe it…"

But Harry and Ginny's thanks were forestalled as the band begun to play; giving Ron and Hermione apologetic looks, Harry and Ginny took each other's hands and made their way to the dance floor, opening the dancing, closely followed by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who were both dressed in matching emerald-green dress robes (which was the motif the majority of the crowd wore, in honor of Harry's eyes, which had become as famous as his scar).

Getting over his hesitation, Ron turned to Hermione. "Come dance?" he asked, holding out his hand.

Hermione smiled warmly and accepted his hand, following him to the dance floor.

"This is great, isn't it?" Hermione said conversationally, looking around at the large crowd of people who had come to the Chosen One's marriage. "There are a lot of people here I thought I'd never see again… look, there's Parvati—Dean, Seamus, Neville—Luna… Michael Corner and Terry Boot—and look, isn't that Angelina Johnson with Lee Jordan? And there's Alicia Spinnet… and Katie Bell, and Oliver Wood…wow, and that man over there looks like Viktor, although it can't possibly be…?"

Halfway through her monologue, Ron mind had drifted off, and he had just been staring at her face, thinking how beautiful she was when she rambled, when Krum's name was mentioned. Predictably, Ron's head whipped around at the mention of the Quidditch star's name, and sure enough, he spotted him, slouching over by the punch bowl, appearing to be in deep conversation with a Weasley cousin. Relaxing a bit when Hermione made no further comment, he held her hand more firmly until they reached the dance floor. Placing both his hands on her waist, he stepped a little closer, feeling Hermione's arms relax around his neck.

"_We could've stayed friends, but we became more_…" the band crooned.

"You know I love you, right?" Ron whispered into her ear.

Hermione widened her eyes exaggeratedly. "No, I didn't!" she said, sounding shocked.

When Ron gave her a shocked stare, she giggled. "Maybe I'd know it better if you remembered to knock on the bathroom door…"

"Well, maybe if you _locked_ the bathroom door," Ron countered.

"_You_ didn't when I nearly walked into you the first time," Hermione shot back.

"And _you_ didn't knock!" Ron finished triumphantly.

"But I didn't know you were in there," Hermione said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You _knew_ I was going to be in the bathroom. You saw me go in right after you left."

Ron pouted. "Yes, well…"

"_I could have been locked out but you opened the door_…" the band continued slowly.

"You never said it back."

"Said what back?" Hermione asked.

"'I love you'," Ron said in the same, sulky tone.

"_I almost stayed out in your garden and grew with all the flora_…"

Hermione rolled her eyes, though she had an amused expression on her face. "I love you," she said. "There—happy?"

"Very."

"_I'd have been a stupid gnome too afraid to Alohomora_…"

Over Hermione's shoulder, Ron could see George spinning Alicia Spinnet around. When he caught George's eye, George looked from him to Hermione and mouthed, _Did you do it yet?_

_No_, Ron mouthed back.

Shooting Ron a slightly annoyed glance, George steered Alicia down the floor until he was beside Harry and Ginny. It appeared as though he was whispering something to them about him and Hermione; and sure enough, when he finished, both couples turned to stare at them.

Hermione, whose back was turned to them, saw none of this, but Ron felt his ears grow warm when Harry, Ginny, George, and Alicia gave him slightly frightening looks. He shrugged desperately.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, feeling his shoulders shrug.

Ron's head snapped back to Hermione. "Oh—nothing, uh… my shoulders feel a bit tense from the Quidditch game with Harry yesterday."

Hermione shook her head knowingly. "Of course. Quidditch."

"You say that as though it's a bad thing," Ron said teasingly.

"I do not!" Hermione protested. "I'm just saying that that's how most of you get injured…"

"Well, yes," Ron said. "Seeing as it's hard to fracture a hip by reading Bathilda Bagshot."

Ron felt Hermione tense, and immediately sensed he said the wrong thing by bringing back memories of what had happened in the home of the widely-acclaimed historian years before.

"Sorry, Hermione," he said quickly. "I forgot—"

"No, it's all right," Hermione said quietly. However, she still looked rather shaken, so Ron snagged two butterbeers off of a passing waiter and handed one to Hermione, who accepted it gratefully. Just then, the music slowly faded, and the wedding cake glided over the heads of the dancers and came to a halt in midair at the front. Harry and Ginny made their way across to it.

"Ooh, let's get closer!" Hermione said excitedly.

"Let's," Ron agreed, wrapping himself around her.

"You know what I mean!" she said, smacking Ron's shoulder in a playful attempt to get him away.

Once again, they made their way to the front of the crowd, though with less difficulty; people seemed to notice that they were Ron and Hermione, Harry's best friends—they had become rather famous after Voldemort's defeat—and allowed them a bit more leeway.

When Harry and Ginny made the first slice in the cake, millions of what appeared to be tiny red and gold butterflies flew out of the perforation and remained to flutter about over everyone's heads.

"Wow," Hermione said appreciatively, not having witnessed a Wizarding wedding before. "Those are beautiful."

"Yeah…" Ron said idly, his hands straying to the pocket where the ring was hidden. He looked at her. "You are."

Hermione blushed and glanced at him. "Sorry?"

Ron shifted his attention to the persistent white rose on the chest of his robes, pretending not to hear her. Even though he and Hermione had been together for quite a few years now, he still felt like an awkward schoolboy whenever he did certain things—walking in on her in the bathroom, accidentally saying quite mushy, embarrassing things, the quick mention of Krum… not to mention walking in on her in the bathroom… dancing with her… walking in on her in the bath—

Ron inwardly slapped himself. That was _not_ the way to think about Hermione.

Mrs. Weasley had at least taught him the basics when it came to respecting women.

…he still had the marks to prove it, but that wasn't the point.

"Ron?"

Ron blinked and felt Hermione gently shaking his arm.

"What?" he asked over the rising noise of the crowd.

"Let's have a wedding, okay?"

Ron stared. "W-what…?"

"Let's have some wedding cake!" Hermione repeated, raising her voice a bit.

"Oh." Ron cleared his throat nervously. "Right. Yeah."

Hermione gave him a concerned look. "Ron, are you all right?"

Ron resisted the urge to ruffle his hair and put on a grin. "Yeah—'course. I'm great."

Still feeling both disoriented and embarrassed, Ron followed her sheepishly to the levitating wedding cake and accepted a slice from one of the white-robed waiters.

"Where did Harry and Ginny go?" Hermione asked him, looking around. "I know they have a really big reserved table, do you see it?"

Amidst the milling crowd of people, it was hard to see much of anything.

"There they are!" Hermione said suddenly, grabbing his arm with her free hand. "Come on, our seats are there too."

"Where?" Ron asked, peering into the crowd.

"Over there, do you see them? Next to Viktor's table—over there…"

Again, Ron's head snapped towards Krum's direction so quickly it seemed as though he had a Vicky Radar embedded in his molars.

Trying to keep his voice steady, he said, "Er—want to go grab some drinks first?"

Hermione looked down at the butterbeer bottle in her hand. "I think one drink each is sufficient enough for now, don't you think?"

Ron looked around wildly for an excuse to keep her from going near Krum's table.

"Erm… how about napkins? D'you want some napkins?"

Hermione looked at him oddly. "No, I'm quite all right, Ron. There are embroided ones on our table, don't you remember? We had to fold a whole stack of them yesterday."

"Oh… right," Ron remembered. "Silverware?"

"Those are on our table too."

Ron continued looking around the room. "Are you sure? Well, there's really good elf-made wine, I'm sure you would—"

"—maybe after I finish this," Hermione said, indicating her full butterbeer bottle. "But, Ron, are you all right? You seem rather—"

"Flowers!" Ron blurted, catching sight of a row of vases filled with numerous varieties of flowers. "Erm—d'you want—I'll—hold on," he finished embarrassedly, making his way towards the vases, taking care to go a bit more slowly than he normally would have.

Once he reached the line of vases, Ron stretched out and attempted to take out a lilac-colored rose; however, the rose appeared to be putting up a great fight, as it seemed as though it did not want to leave. Finally, he managed to extricate the rose from the vase and found why it had been so difficult to take from the vase.

It was entwined with a red rose.

Smiling, Ron held the two entwined roses behind his back and made his way to Hermione, who was still waiting for him where he left her. She looked pleasantly flustered when he handed her the roses quietly.

"Wow… thanks, Ron."

Ron had opened his mouth to speak when something hit him in the back, causing him to stumble forward a pace.

"Sorry," a voice grunted behind him. "There are so many bloody people here that you can't—"

Ron turned around. "George?"

George looked up from the humongous pile of food that was balanced precariously on his plate. Realizing who he had bumped into, his eyes roved from Ron to Hermione and back again so quickly Ron felt as though he was watching two people pass a Quaffle back and forth with inhumane speed.

"Why aren't you guys at the high table?" he asked, unable to keep a tone of suspicious glee from his voice.

Hermione held up the roses, a small smile on her face. "Ron got me these."

A devilish grin George normally wore when he was with Fred crossed his face.

_Oh, bugger_, Ron thought to himself.

"Oh really?" George asked. "What else did he get you?"

"Well, he tried to get me drinks, napkins, silverware, and wine," Hermione said.

George nodded understandingly. "Anything else? Like a r—"

Ron surreptitiously kicked him on the shins.

"Like a what?" Hermione asked idly, staring at the roses.

"Nothing," Ron said firmly, ignoring the stream of curse words trickling from George's mouth. Glancing at Krum's table, he looked over just in time to see Krum walking over to the punch bowl, apparently still in deep conversation with one of his cousins. "Well, let's get over to the table, then? Harry and Ginny must be wondering where we are."

And with that, he strode off to the table with such finality that even George decided to drop the topic.

While Ron was a few paces ahead, Hermione took care to look around to see if anybody was noticing before pressing the two roses to her lips.

-x-

"There you are!" Ginny said, pretending to sound stern. "We almost considered giving your spots to Neville and Luna."

"Surely not," Ron said, helping Hermione, who threw her hands up to her head in mock anxiety, into her chair.

"Yeah, either that or we hit you with Ginny's bouquet," Harry said, "that thing's got a fair amount of thorns..."

Everyone sitting at the table laughed except Ron, who had begun staring at Ginny's bridal bouquet, which had been sitting next to her plate.

_Whoever catches the bouquet marries next…_

"Oi! Ron!"

Ron looked up quickly. "What?"

"He's been doing that all day," Hermione said, looking at Ron anxiously. "He says he's fine, but—"

"Oh, trust me, Hermione," George interrupted, his eyes twinkling. "I think Ron'll be at his best very soon."

Ron threw him a glare that went unheeded as he, Harry, and Ginny seemed to be engaging in a private joke.

The meal passed on pleasantly, but a bit too quickly for Ron's liking.

"It's time for the throwing of the bouquet!" Ginny said to the room at large once all conversation had died down. "But since it's a bit too crowded in here, we're going to do it outside in the orchard."

"But it's a bit windy out there," Neville said, glancing outside. There were a few murmurs of agreement.

"That makes it better though," Harry said, shrugging. This statement, too, received murmurs of agreement.

-x-

Shading his eyes from the sunlight, Ron took his place on the sides with the other single men to watch the throwing of the bouquet. Not wanting to miss Hermione catching it, if she could, he made sure that he was at the very front of the throng.

A few white rosebuds flew into his face as a particularly strong gust of wind whistled through the orchard.

"Bugger," he muttered angrily, relieving his eyelid of a petal.

"Ready?" Ginny said to the accumulation of single women, who were all looking anticipative. Hermione, too, was standing near the front of the throng, looking positively excited. Though Ron didn't notice it, she was clutching the two roses he had given her fervently in her hands.

"Ready!" they all replied.

"Bugger," Ron repeated nervously.

"On the count of three," Harry called. "One…"

Ginny turned around so as to throw the bouquet blindly.

"Two…"

She raised the bouquet up in the air.

"Three!"

At that moment, two things happened at once—Ginny launched her bouquet up into the air, and a humongous gust of wind blew through the orchard; instead of flying into the crowd of single women, the bouquet was blown into the group of men standing at the sides.

Or rather, one man in particular.

"Ouch!" Ron roared, as the bouquet smacked him square in the face.

There was a stunned silence for a while as everybody stared at Ron.

Ron stared at the bouquet that had fallen to his hands.

Everybody stared at Ron.

Ron stared at the bouquet.

It was Dean, Seamus, and Neville, who were standing beside Ron, who broke the silence by roaring with laughter.

Harry and Ginny looked on in anticipation while George said, "So, ickle Ronniekins—what are you going to do with that?"

"Put it in a vase and watch it grow," Ron replied sarcastically.

"I think you know what you're going to do with them," George whispered. When Ron paled slightly, he clapped him on the back. Making the smallest of nods, Ron glanced at Harry and Ginny, who gave him looks that clearly said, _Do it, or we'll tell our child that their Uncle Ron fails miserably at Keeping—then our child will hate you forever, do you want that?_

It seemed as though time ticked slower with every step he made toward Hermione. Once everyone realized what was happening, they all quieted down; it was eerily silent.

Once he reached Hermione, he merely looked at her before speaking. Hermione didn't move, nor did she look around: she merely stared back at Ron, her expression of initial disappointment at not catching the bouquet turning into one of stunned shock. Staring into her eyes, Ron found that the anxiety and nervousness he had previously felt vanished completely.

He held the bouquet out to her.

"I think this belongs to you," he said.

Hermione looked at it disbelievingly. "But—why…?"

Instead of replying, Ron reached into his pocket and pulled out the box that Hermione had almost seen in the bathroom earlier. Knowing that it was horribly cliché, but at the same time, knowing Hermione would appreciate it, he got down on one knee and opened the box, revealing its contents.

"Because I want you to marry me," Ron said.

At once, the crowd exploded into applause: Harry was whooping with glee, George was nodding with an almost fatherly eye, Mrs. Weasley burst out into tears of extreme happiness…

…and again, to Ron and Hermione, it seemed as though they were the only two there. Hermione pressed her hands wonderingly to her mouth, the flowers he had given her earlier still clutched in them.

She looked at him and smiled, a single tear making its way down her cheek.

_Whoever catches the bouquet marries next. _

_**finite**_

SIGNIFICANCE OF FLOWERS:

-white rosebuds mean that his heart was at first ignorant of the love (which we all knew both of them were, before)  
-a red rose, of course, means romantic (not platonic!) love. It also means that a special wish will be granted… and in this case, Ron's wish is for Hermione to marry him.  
-a lilac rose means love at first sight.  
-two roses entwined mean that marriage is imminent.  
-when pressing a rose or roses given to you to the lips, it means "Yes".  
-and I suppose you could take the bridal flowers smacking Ron in the face as a sign that happy love will hit him, all of a sudden. Not hit him literally, of course… that wouldn't be romantic. –snort–  
-oh, and, one more thing—what did they name their first-born child? Rose, I believe it was…


End file.
